


Not A Single Word (Boy Too Shy)

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Frankenstein & Related Fandoms, Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everybody Is Alive And Happy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dancing, Fluff, Kiss The Girl, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, sha-la-la-la-la-la my oh my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry tries to teach Victor how to dance, which is really an endeavor doomed to fail from the beginning, and Victor's bad enough at it that they end up on a rowboat in the lake outside the party. It turns out okay for all involved parties, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Single Word (Boy Too Shy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzy/gifts), [Katy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katy/gifts), [el_glaucus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_glaucus/gifts).



> I am warm garbage and I love Henry and Victor.
> 
> I recommend listening to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWGDWn0hACQ) while you read this. Or after you read this. Or, whenever, really.

“It’s so simple, Victor, really,” Henry assured him, beaming and watching Victor’s face, mainly, while Victor stared hard at their feet. “I promise.”

“Obviously, it’s not,” Victor murmured under his breath, and Henry laughed. Victor glanced at him, then scowled at the grin on his face. “This isn’t funny.”

“I never said it was,” Henry reminded him, still smiling as he readjusted his hand where it rested on Victor’s shoulder blade. Victor straightened out, rising back up to his full height, and Henry tipped his head back to look up at him.

“Am I leading, or are you?” Victor asked seriously. Someone spinning a girl past them bumped into his back, and he glared over his shoulder.

“I’m leading,” Henry answered, pulling his attention back. Victor flexed his fingers in Henry’s hand.

“Why?” Victor finally asked, and Henry laughed again, reaching for Victor’s left hand with his right to adjust its position before returning his own hand to where it belonged. He tugged at Victor, pulling them into the first steps, and Victor promptly moved his left foot instead of his right and tripped backwards. Henry’s hand snapped forward to grab the front of Victor’s suit before he could fall backwards.

“Because you clearly don’t know what you’re doing,” Henry replied, trying not to smile. Trying. Mostly failing. Victor huffed.

“I won’t be able to dance with anyone if I don’t know how to lead them,” Victor argued. “They won’t want to lead me, I’m too tall.”

“Yes, I’m encountering that problem right now,” Henry said, moving to take Victor’s hand again. Victor shifted, putting his hands on his hips. Henry withdrew his own hands and tilted his head a little bit. Victor easily met his eyes when he looked at him. He folded his arms across his chest. “You want to try something else?”

“I can do basic swing,” Victor mentioned. “We can do that. We don’t have to do your fancy waltzes.”

“Not fancy.” Henry shifted, stepping back. Another dancer bumped into Victor’s back, annoyed by their stillness in the middle of the dance floor, but Victor just extended one hand. Henry took it and allowed Victor to pull him forward.

“I’ve only got the very basics down,” Victor repeated anxiously, pulling his arm up for Henry to spin under. He stepped sideways at the wrong moment and bumped into him. He groaned loudly when Henry just laughed at him. He dropped Henry’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Victor apologized half-heartedly, and both of Henry’s light eyebrows raised when he smiled. The band started a new song, a slower one, almost acoustic in its gentle simplicity.

“You are not, but I accept regardless.” Henry moved to place his hand on Victor’s back, and Victor frowned down at him again, high spots of color rising on his cheeks. Henry took a half-step back, dropping his hand.

“What are you-”

“Do you not want-”

Henry laughed once while Victor’s brow just furrowed. “Do you not want to dance?”

“I thought you just wanted to _teach_ me how to dance,” Victor replied, and Henry only raised one eyebrow at him this time.

“I also wanted to dance _with_ you,” Henry clarified. Victor shifted anxiously, seemingly not of his own accord. Henry took a careful, quiet breath. “I’m sorry if you-”

“No!” Victor interrupted, too quickly, too loudly, but Henry smiled at him. “No, it’s- No, it’s fine. I want to dance with you.” Victor cleared his throat, then stepped closer. “What were you- Whatever you were doing, that is, feel free to… do.”

“I will,” Henry said, stepping forward again, letting his hand settle along Victor’s back, the highest spot he could reach without having to stretch awkwardly. He took Victor’s hand in his free one and guided it to the small of his back.

“This is like a school dance all over again,” Victor said, but it did not feel like a complaint, not the way he said it tonight. Henry clasped his other hand in Victor’s and let Victor guide them into a stilted slow dance.

“There, how’s that?” Henry asked. Victor did not answer, only humming a low sound of assent. Henry shuffled forward slightly, allowing his head to rest against Victor’s shoulder. “See? You’re not so bad at dancing.”

“Maybe I just needed the right partner,” Victor replied, his voice soft against the background of the music that was still playing from the band by the front of the party. Henry did not respond, instead letting himself enjoy the moment until the song ended. When silence reigned after the band announced they would be taking a short break, Victor withdrew, but Henry reached out and gently reeled him back in by his lapels.

“You don’t get to walk away from saying something like that,” Henry warned him. Victor nodded once, and Henry glanced about the room, casting around for an option. After a bit of indecision, he nodded towards the substantial glass doors that occupied most of the west wall. Through them, one could see the small, vividly green hills that led down to the water, black with nighttime. “Want to take a walk?”

“Yes,” Victor agreed immediately. He cleared his throat and took a hesitant step back, away from Henry. Henry’s hands fell from Victor’s suit. “Sure, yeah.”

Henry watched him for a moment before smiling up at him. He reached down and squeezed one of Victor’s hands before turning from him and striding away. Victor watched him for a moment, watched his tightly-bound strawberry-blonde hair with the one loose strand he must not have noticed, watched his hands as he flexed his freckled fingers and tucked them into his pockets, watched the creases of his suit that he must have meticulously ironed. Victor blinked and took a steadying breath before following Henry out the doors.

As it turned out, nobody was outside, not even smokers or young drunk people arguing. Henry looked this way, looked that way, shrugged. He moved on, leaving Victor to catch up to his quick pace. While Victor’s legs may be longer, Henry certainly moved faster. Victor caught up in a moment, and, after a split second’s hesitation, reached for Henry’s hand and wound their fingers together. Henry smiled at him and slowed to a stroll, tilting his head up. Victor looked down at him, expecting to meet his eyes, before he realized Henry was looking beyond him. He, too, turned his face up, and was met with a sky full of brilliant stars.

“No light pollution out this far,” Henry murmured, his voice low in deference to night’s silent nature. “Not here, not like in the city.”

“I like the city,” Victor added after a moment. Henry smiled a little, a small upturning of the corners of his lips, but he still did not look at Victor.

“I know you do,” Henry replied. “I do, too. But there’s something to this, you know?”

“I know.” Victor turned his attention back to their path, a thin dirt one beaten into the grass, and allowed Henry to lead him. “Where is it we’re going?”

“There’s little rowboats down there, see?” Henry pointed to the very edge of the water, and, sure enough, right there, in the moon-shadow of a tremendous oak, was a neat little cluster of small rowboats, oars tucked into each one. “Obviously, I’ll have to row.”

“What’s obvious about that?”

“You’re all skin and bones,” Henry reminded him, squeezing Victor’s hand, feeling the fine bones underneath Victor’s skin move against his palm. “It’s fine for your lab, but not for rowing. I’ll row.”

“We’ll both row.”

Henry looked up, studying Victor’s expression for a moment. He smiled, blindingly, a second later, his teeth white and a few endearingly crooked.

“We’ll both row,” Henry agreed, releasing Victor’s hand once they reached the rowboats. He handed Victor both of the oars and pushed the rowboat out into the water, pulling Victor after him to leap into it recklessly. When water lifted up over the edge and splashed down their sleeves, Henry only laughed and proceeded to shake the water that had landed in his hair onto Victor’s face. He stole one of the oars before Victor could even wipe his eyes or protest.

“You’re something,” Victor said, though it was not quite what he meant to say. Henry looked up at him, like he understood. They both fell into comfortable silence, the water rich and rolling underneath their little boat. It slapped against the oars and the wooden sides of their rowboat, but the sound was soothing, lulling Victor into an almost dreamlike state. Whereas Henry was distracted by the water, and the stars, and the moon and her reflection, however, Victor was distracted by Henry.

Henry smiled, just then, for no other reason than he was _happy_ , and Victor felt like he suddenly saw Henry. Of course, obviously, he had seen Henry before, but this was like an awakening, like his eyes had been closed and were just now opened. There was just something about him that Victor had always known, was only just discovering, and he took a deep breath to steady himself against it. Suddenly, the air seemed in short supply, and he felt like a man dying - he wanted to kiss Henry, _needed_ to kiss him, needed to pull him in and hold him close and spend his _entire life_ doing nothing but that from now on.

Henry stopped rowing, oblivious to Victor’s revelations. He rested the oar in his lap and reached up to unknot his bow tie. The wrinkled blue of the tie splashed down the black-and-white of his suit when he undid it, and Victor stared at it, transfixed. Henry turned to Victor, mouth open and smiling, about to say something, but he closed it when he caught Victor’s expression. Victor looked up at him, met his eyes, and Henry tipped his head, about to say his name, about to ask, and Victor shook his head. When he shifted, their knees knocked together in the compact little rowboat.

Henry closed his mouth and swallowed. Victor moved slowly, haltingly, dropping his head down until he could feel Henry’s breath on his lips. Henry stared up at him, wide-eyed and brilliant, and Victor shut his own eyes and grazed his lips lightly against Henry’s. Henry sighed against the kiss, and Victor dropped the oar he had been clutching, white-knuckled, in his two hands. Victor returned again, after that first light touch of lips, to kiss him again, with more strength this time, with purpose. Henry let Victor guide the kiss, indicating what he was comfortable with, doing what he wanted to do. One of Henry’s hands wrapped around Victor’s, the other one making its way to tangle in his tie, and he seemed content to let Victor lead. At least, until Victor let their lips part, at which point Henry threw his arms around Victor’s neck. In doing so, he shifted too much of his weight onto Victor’s half of the rowboat and, in his enthusiasm, sent them both, flailing, into the lake.

Victor resurfaced first, right next to the overturned wooden boat, and Henry popped up a split second later, his long hair unbound and stuck to his face in wet tendrils. He looked surprised, just for a heartbeat, before he burst into laughter. Victor laughed, once or twice, and his breath was fog there in the cold of the lake. Henry found the oars and charged Victor with their safe return to shore while he himself towed the rowboat. They swam back at Victor’s slower pace, Henry laughing every now and then without provocation. After they were on the shore, both of them squelching in their dress shoes as they dragged the rowboat back up to its siblings and dropped the oars into it, Henry turned out his pockets, emptying them of his phone, his wallet, and his keys before reaching around Victor to do the same thing. Victor stiffened, and Henry, almost as though he had forgotten what, exactly, had landed them in the water, pulled back automatically. He turned his face up to study Victor.

“You never said a word to me,” Henry finally said, his tone almost scolding, and Victor leaned against the trunk of the mammoth oak by the rowboats. He half-shrugged, lifting one shoulder.

“I didn’t think I needed words,” Victor replied, and Henry’s answering grin was blinding. He stepped forward at once, crowding into Victor’s personal space, and reached up to wrap one of his hands around the back of Victor’s head. He had to stretch up onto his toes and tug him down.

“You’re too tall,” Henry murmured before he crushed their mouths together again. Whatever Victor’s response was meant to be, it was swallowed right then and there. The light from the party above still danced on them, mingling with the moon- and star-light and reflecting off the lake, but Victor could have sworn nothing was brighter than Henry in that moment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
